


A Lack of Eloquent Speech

by moist



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Angst, M/M, Oneshot, angst with happy ending, i guess, idk how to fucking tag man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 03:33:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11176140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moist/pseuds/moist
Summary: Chrom was never good with words.





	A Lack of Eloquent Speech

**Author's Note:**

> This would have been finished sooner but I left the file I was writing this in open and my brother implied that he knew what this was the next morning. Now every time I look at this I want to die.

Chrom was never good with words; more specifically when he had to be conscious of how he used them.

Rallying a group of soldiers was easy. He didn't have to worry about initial pleasantries or causing unintentional offense, and he didn't have to attempt at analyzing whether or not the other party was trying to gain his favor. Well, sort of. At least he didn't have to deal with people trying to gain his affections unlike the fair maidens of the noble courts. Not that he didn't mind their presences, but having women flock to him because of his social standing was getting tiresome.

So when Robin came into his life, he was rather relieved. Here was a man that had much academic prowess and cunning that allowed him to maneuver any court in his favor with ease. No longer did Frederick have to step in when the Prince was about to fall into the traps of conspiring nobles. It had taken off a certain amount of anxiousness that neither of them knew they had.

Relief was the only thing that filled his life when Robin was introduced. There was a sense of curious familiarity, and wonder that came along with him. After all, it's not every day that one find a man skilled in the art of tactics and combat lying in a field, and with no memories, no less.

Even when he had only been a Shepard for a day or so, he already seemed so integrated with the rest of their colourful cast, it was almost as if he had been there from the very beginning.  
Robin also brought along with him various amounts of new experiences for Chrom.

A feeling of closeness that he was never able to forge before had been found. Perhaps it was the battlefield to blame. If not for the battles he fought with the albino man, who knows where their relationship would stand.

Chrom likes to hope that it would have ended up the same.

That was because Robin was more than a simple soldier. He companion whom he could share his doubts with, and who in turn would do the same, a man that would keep his head while Chrom would make attempts to strain his heart's desires. They were two men destined to lead an army against unbelievable odds. 

How ironic it was that in the midst of war filled with series of sorrowful events, that he fell in love.

* * *

Chrom was never good with words.

He was a blunt man; speaking in eloquent forms that could only equal the vocabulary of a poet was a foreign concept to him.

He turned out to be worse with them than he thought, however.

The war was won and the Shepards were celebrating to their hearts content. He expected to contain his feelings until they at least made it back to Ylisse soil but it seemed that his heart has other plans. He'll never forget the horror within him that settled after he practically yelled his affections to the entire camp, or the face of shock that rested on Robin's face. It was moments after that the tactician burst out laughing that Chrom had never felt more grateful at being teased. Even if Robin didn't reciprocate his feelings, at least he wasn't disgusted of him.

And to his pleasant surprise, Robin did. Sure, they agreed place the Haildom first but the thought of what awaited them was enough to motivate Chrom to fight a thousand men alone if he had to.

* * *

Chrom hadn't improved in his speech in the slightest over the next few years. One would think that becoming the ruler of a Haildom would change that. Seeing as Robin dealt with many of the diplomatic exchanges, some could argue that Chrom had only gotten worse since his late sister's rule. 

Many of the Shepards still continued to serve the Haildom, though others decided to temporarily part ways for their own adventures. Sadly, their quests were cut short when another war was on the horizon. 

Once again they were thrown into the battlefield with the odds against them. Many more of his soldiers would die and even more to be injured. He hopes that when the war ends, it'll be the last he sees in his lifetime. Three was far too many.

He both thanked and cursed Naga that Robin was by his side once more. He was thankful to have Robin's cunning wit among them to defeat relinquishing odds but also fearful that he would lose his life. No matter how many times Chrom scolded him, Robin continued to put his comrades safety first, even if it mean risking his own.

It was an honorable trait, but one Chrom wished Robin didn't have. He lost count of the number of times he found the tactician wounded after battle and in the medical tent. It pained him when he saw the bandages that covered his body relentlessly. More cuts meant more risks, and more risks meant one step closer to death. That was a something he feared more than anything.

It was because of this that Chrom considered himself a terrible man, for he wasn't sure if he feared Robin's death because of his love for him or if it was because he didn't want to be alone.

When they edged closer to bring the war to a close, Chrom mustered himself to bring up his concerns. Unlike his confession back on Plegian soil, this was much more gentle, more sacred, as if Chrom was finally revealing who he was to Robin. They spoke in hushed voices in the safety of their tent that could barely be heard over the crickets outside. Chrom's doubts and fears came piling out as he made futile attempts to avoid eye contact. These confessions were different from the ones he made in the last war. Those were of objective matters that tied into his responsibilities as a royal. These were what some may consider trivial matters.

He worried for Robin's health, as he rarely slept in favour of conjuring new strategies. He skipped meals to do the same. Chrom confessed his worry for Robin's safety because, if anything, his risky actions on the battlefield had only increase. He confessed his fears of loneliness, even as he regretted it afterwards.

Robin responded with fears of his own. He feared of failure, felt that every death was caused by his hand. He was terrified of what his past may hold, and why and how he forgot it in the first place. His thoughts on the possibility that Chrom might leave him.

Reassurance came from both parties after the confessions ended. Who Robin was in the past has no say in who he was now. 

With their hearts open and at ease, they retired for the night. As Chrom drifted to sleep, he vaguely remembered seeing a distressed Robin staring at the back of his uncovered hand. 

He keeps that to himself.

* * *

Chrom was never good with words, but at that moment he was speechless.

The wind flew against his face like razors, but he still faced forwards. Prying his eyes away was something his heart desired but he remained stilled in shock and horror.

Before him, he watched Robin fade away.

It was a slow and painful process. His legs were already gone, disappeared into a translucent purple hue, leaving the sunrise behind him visible. He looks beautiful, Chrom curses at himself for thinking. He always had, ever since the day they met on that field close by South Town, but there was a melancholic atmosphere that added to this visual. 

Chrom knew, deep down that Robin didn't want to die but it was hard to say if by the end of their final campaign that he wanted to live either. Discovering that he was Grima's incarnate had taken a mental toll far greater than he'd like to admit. He never said anything but Chrom could tell from his distant eyes and the bags underneath them. 

One of his largest regrets was that he was unable to relieve all of Robin's stress in his final days. _At least_ , Chrom thought painfully, _he won't be tired anymore. At least he'll be at ease._

Thinking back, Chrom wonders if he was an adequate lover. Had he been there enough for him, both physically and emotionally? Perhaps if he were smarter or more diligent like Frederick, he would have been able to find some other solution to end Grima permanently. If he had been more affectionate, could he have changed Robin's mind? Could he have rid him of his worries?

The face that Robin wore in his final moments seemed to quell his thoughts. There smile that seemed forced but relieved at the same time, and eyes that mixed with such strong amounts of emotions that he couldn't help but stare in awe.

 _“This isn't you fault,”_ they seemed to tell him along with _“I don't want to go.”_

There's barely any of him left now and Chrom wishes that he didn't have to leave either.

“Tell the others that my last thoughts were of them.”

He's completely gone by then and Chrom can't help but choke out a grieved laugh. How ironic that his words of comfort only brought forth more tears.

* * *

Chrom was never good with words but there are moments when he wishes he was.

When he sees him lying there, sleeping blissfully in the grass, nostalgia runs through him and the only words he can conjure that of ones from the past. 

Maybe he can ask Robin to help him improve.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Update on 10/10/2017:** Hey so I just reread this really quickly and one entire section showed up twice?? I fixed it though


End file.
